


Protected II, Days in a Life

by coal15



Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: M/M, Sweet Fluff, did I mention sweet fluff?, more sweet fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-18
Updated: 2019-03-18
Packaged: 2019-11-23 20:52:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18156920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coal15/pseuds/coal15
Summary: The first side-story taking place between the chapters of what I guess I now have to call Protected, Vol.1. Expect more of these drabbles. This one features their New York wedding ceremony. I was going for grossly adorable, let me know if I hit the mark.





	Protected II, Days in a Life

Eliot struggled to fasten his small cufflinks with uncooperative fingers, periodically glancing at Quentin who sat on the edge of the bed lacing up his shoes.

"Would you help me with these things, please?" He asked finally. "They're tiny brass nightmares."

Q obliged, and couldn't help but notice his husband's general fidgety stance. "You're not  _nervous_ about today, are you?" He asked with a gentle laugh.

"No!" El shifted his weight from foot to foot and drew a deep breath. "Maybe a little," he admitted.

Q's eyebrows rose, his eyes lit with a mix of curiosity and amusement. "Wh-"

"I dunno why." El sighed, chuckling at his own absurdity.

"Y'think maybe I'll go 'runaway groom' at the last minute?" Q teased.

"Could happen . . ."

"Okay, but you're not  _seriously_  worried, right?"

"Not  _actually,"_  Eliot replied with a self-deprecating huff."Just . . . there's like, maybe one half of one brain cell that hasn't quite absorbed . . . that . . .I mean  _shit,_ like I said in the Fillory ceremony, when the fuck have I ever been this lucky?" He toed the ground, uncharacteristically bashful as he threaded his fingers with Quentin's, swinging their hands wide apart and back together in a repeating motion.

Despite his best efforts, Q failed to bite back a smile. "You're adorable, you know that?" He said. "Do we need to hop through all 39 other timelines and get married there, too?"

"Fuck off."

"I mean, if it would make you feel better . . ."

"You're  _enjoying this!"_ Eliot whined. "Stop enjoying this!"

"I'm sorry," Q wrapped his arms around the other man's waist. "It's sweet."

Eliot released a deep sigh, perching his chin atop Q's head and swaying their bodies back and forth. "Noooooo, it's not. I'm being silly as all fuck. Hey, what time is it?" He wondered suddenly, checking his phone. "We should get to the courthouse, everyone else is probably already there."

"K," Q nodded, heading for the bedroom door with Eliot close behind. "And if you notice a dark van parked nearby, it is in no way my getaway vehicle."

"Stop! Enjoying! This!" El insisted, giving his husband a shove to the shoulders with each word. A sort of playful punctuation.

Whereas Fillorian Weddings revolved around making declarations, an earth wedding was all about vows. Promises. So even though they'd exchanged heartfelt speeches in Fillory, both men still chose to write their own vows for the New York wedding. True, courthouse weddings were quick and simple by design, meant for those no-nonsense couples on the go, but Quentin and Eliot still wanted to make sure it felt like  _their ceremony_.

In attendance were Julia, Penny 23, Kady, Alice, Margo, Josh, and Fen, all dressed in semi-formal attire.

"A fucking corsage? Really Julia?" Quentin asked as Julia fastned the small item to his lapel. "What is this, _Prom?"_

Julia winked and stuck her tongue out at him, then moved over to fasten a matching decoration to Eliot's lapel.

The small party walked to their assigned courtroom, courtroom 5, with El and Quentin leading the way. They did make for a happy little parade, but one not unique. With all the other couples waiting their turn to exchange vows, then promptly get on with the lovely magic and serious business of married life? The men and their little clutch of friends didn't stand out at all. Which was itself a kind of lovely.

As the ceremony began amid the unremarkable surroundings of courtroom 5, Alice stood close by with their matching rings in hand, nested on a little satin cushion.

"I understand you've written your own vows?" Asked Judge Flannery. A delicate pixie of a woman with dark rimmed glasses and almost blindingly pink lipstick.

"Mmhm," both men nodded.

"Eliot Waugh, you may begin."

Which of them would speak first had been determined three days previous by way of thumb war. Best out of three.

"We've already been over the  _reasons_  I love you, so I won't make this repetitive.  _Because_ of all those reasons, I, Eliot, promise to you, Quentin, my absolute trust, my fidelity, and my loyalty. I promise to stay by your side every day of my life. To protect and to take care of you, regardless of circumstance, in sickness and in health. This ring . . . "

Alice stepped forward.

Eliot plucked one of the rings off the small cushion, and slid it on Quentin's finger.

" . . . this ring is my promise to never let anything break us."

The little pixie-Judge smiled, and turned to Quentin.

"Quentin Coldwater. Your vows, please."

Q drew a deep breath, and cleared his throat.

"I Quentin, promise you, Eliot, my absolute faith. I promise you my devotion, and my respect. I promise to honor our marriage, every day and every hour, for the rest of my life. Honestly, there's no part of me I  _don't_ promise to you, so I'll spare us both the list." He smiled up at Eliot, sliding the ring on his finger. "With this ring I promise . . . to never let anything break us."

"I now pronounce you Misters Coldwater," Judge Flannery chirped with a smile. "You may kiss."

It was a sweet courthouse appropriate kiss, met with a quiet chorus of applause. With the exception of Julia. Julia made a fair bit of noise, and Q appreciated her outsized glee on his behalf.

At that point a court clerk stepped forward with a license for them both to sign, along with Julia and Margo as witnesses.

"Congratulations," he said. "We'll get this copied into public record, and you should get the original in the mail within a week or so."

"Fantastic." Eliot took his husband's hand and turned to their small party of friends with a broad smile. "Who's up for sushi?"

The not-actually-newlyweds spent the better part of that day eating their combined body weight in raw fish, then portal-hopped their sleepy asses back home to Fillory.

"Good day, huh?" Eliot mused as they settled into bed, admiring his newly adorned ring finger.

"Mmhm," Q muttered into his pillow before propping up on an elbow. "Hey, let's work on the orchard tomorrow. I think some our starters are big enough to transplant, and the older trees need pruning in a big way."

"Okay," Eliot replied with a yawn. "And remind me to get a mule and a plow at some point, pushing that hand plow through the dirt is a  _bitch."_

"We'd need to build a little barn for it," said Quentin. "The mule, not the plow."

His husband shrugged. "We're already fencing in an acre or so, right? I'm down for some extra work if you are."

Q settled back to his pillow with a broad grin. "Are you even the same guy who couldn't fucking  _wait_  to get away from farm life?"

Eliot pursed his lips, pondering the deeply valid question. "I guess I didn't loathe the farm so much as the family running it." He turned to Q and mirrored the man's grin. "Playing in the dirt with  _you_ on  _our property_ is actually kinda fun."

Over the next several months the couple fenced in their property, dug a well, roughly a quarter mile irrigation trench leading from a nearby creek, set up the garden, got a few neighbors to help build the barn, bought a mule, and pieced together a granite path from their gate entrance to the front door.

As a final touch they built a mailbox, painted with proud red letters on the side announcing: Coldwater Residence.

"Wow," Quentin breathed quietly, stepping back to take in the whole picture, Eliot at his side. "No more home improvement projects for a while, okay? I need a break."

"No argument here." El agreed, sliding his arms around Q's shoulders. "Still though . . . look at this place," he said proudly. "We kick all kinds ass, huh?"

"We do," Quentin nodded. "I say we show it off. Wanna invite the High King over for dinner?"

Her Majesty was  _deeply_  impressed.

THE END


End file.
